


Not what I was going for but sure, let there be light.

by Des98



Series: Chloe’s Lightbringer [1]
Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fun, Funny, Gen, Lightbringer, Lucifer is king, Mundane workings of hell, Oneshot, Silly, but also reluctant father figure to a bunch of dumbass demons, crackfic, lucifer is awesome, lucifer king of hell, meant to be serious but turned into crack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-19
Updated: 2019-05-19
Packaged: 2020-03-07 16:16:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18876703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Des98/pseuds/Des98
Summary: Lucifer is trying to discipline some naughty demons when his lightbringer powers decide to remind him that they’ve never really gone away.





	Not what I was going for but sure, let there be light.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wollfgang](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wollfgang/gifts), [ariaadagio](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ariaadagio/gifts).



> Gifted to tumblr users @thewollfgang and @ariaadagio since their wonderful lucifer blogs actually sparked a quick jot of inspiration in my slumbering muse.

    To say that Lucifer Morningstar, king of hell, fallen archangel, supreme overlord of the demons of the underworld, and (most importantly, in his opinion) one true love to a Ms. Chloe Decker was in a _bad_ mood would be a gross understatement. He was in the most terrible of moods, perhaps crankier than his demons had ever seen him, which was saying something (and really, you should have seen him after the nuremberg trials, when some of the nazis had the gall to blame _him_ for their appalling actions. He was in a snit for centuries, after that).

    See, the root of his bad mood was rather simple, really.  He missed his detective, and he wanted to go back to her. And he estimated that he _would_ be able to go back to her, eventually. He’d even given special dispensation to one of his more well-behaved demons to temporarily possess a corpse to tell her that once he’d gotten things straightened out down here, he’d be able to come back to her.  Because time worked differently in hell, being so much slower, he should have the rebelling demons under control in about six months to one earth year, which was anywhere from 600 years to a millennia down where he was. After that, he’d only have to go back down once a month or so for a few earth days to check up on things. Not ideal, but better than nothing, certainly.

     Of course, there was the minor hiccup that the idiot (really, he should have never trusted the intelligence of a demon named _Brad)_ had revealed himself not only to Chloe, but to Dan and Ella as well, who thereby learned the truth about him in a rather traumatising way (ie, seeing a corpse that poor Ms. Lopez had been working on suddenly rise up from the ground and start talking). Ah well, at least it had only been the three of them. And hey, less explaining to do about his absence, and his dear human friends had some time to adjust to the situation. No, that wasn’t what he was mad about, although Brad had received a stern talking to and a sentence of a thousand years in a mind-numbingly boring section of hell that he had modeled after Beatrice’s heinously standardized place of bureaucratic ‘learning’ and gleefully dubbed ‘idiot school,’ where the immortal souls of certain college professors who had found their way into hell over residual guilt of boring their students to tears for the entirety of their tenured careers had been promised passage to the silver city on the condition that they teach certain wayward demons (in the most excruciatingly dull way possible) ‘how not to be a fucking moron.’  Dromos and Squee had been the first pupils to be not-so-willingly enrolled.

     No, Brad wasn’t the problem right now (although he was certainly _a_ problem, and while he certainly didn’t condone Lilith’s terrible parenting and had punished her many times over it, he could sort of understand why he’d found her trying to wash her hands of poor Brad by putting him in a basket and trying to float him down one of the lava rivers in the 8th circle like some sad, dumb version of Moses).

     Rather, his current problem imps were Jason and Carl, who had gotten entirely the _wrong_ kind of inspiration from torturing frat bros down in έξι-έξι-έξι, a section of the fifth circle reserved entirely for fraternity students who had died as a result of the cruel and moronic hazing incidents they thought it acceptable to inflict on the poor, stupid freshman who came into their care. _Jason and Carl_ however, somehow happened to think it was a simply _marvelous_ idea to start a demon fraternity, and for their own initiation ritual had drunk a good third of one of the sulphuric volcanoes in the seventh circle (a marvelous section that Lucifer reserved solely for greedy businessmen who thought it okay to build tacky resorts on sacred native lands, and then utilize innocent indigenous populations to staff those hotels at criminally low wages). The two demons had gotten so drunk that they’d loaded themselves up with fireworks from the hell loops of people who’d killed their entire families in moronic drunk Fourth of July incidents (it happened more often than you’d think) and tried to blow up idiot school to rescue Dromos, Squee, and Brad. Needless to say, their plot did _not_ go well, and now they stood in front of Lucifer, trying to muster up a sufficiently guilty mien.

     “Now,” Lucifer chastised them, gritting his teeth, “could you two please tell me, what in the name of **_ME_ ** were you thinking, trying to disobey my _direct_ orders to free your ‘buddies’ from their justly-earned punishment?”

     “Uh,” Carl began, “see here dude, we weren’t really thinkin’ of it as disobeying, exactly.”

     “Yeah bruh, we was just tryin’ to bust our friends outta class so they could join our frat.”

      Lucifer pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, wondering when being king of hell had turned into parenting dumb little shits. He missed Beatrice- at least _she_ could follow basic directions.  “Now you two listen here,” he scolded them, “I am not your ‘dude’ I am not your ‘bruh’,” he said sternly, his British affectation making the words sound hilariously absurd. “I am your Fa- King! I am your King!” He quickly corrected himself.  “And as your _king,_ I have to ask- WHAT THE FUCK WERE YOU THINKING?!”  It was here that he tried to call on his devil face, but something wasn’t quite right. Instead of blazing hellfire eyes, there was a brilliant white light, and the chastised demons in front of him were covered in soot and lightly smoldering.

     Huh, his lightbringer powers.  That was strange, he hadn’t used them in centuries, except occasionally to light a cigarette or a blunt when he couldn’t get his damn lighter to work fast enough. It was even stranger that they’d blazed to life when he tried to use his devil face- although, come to think of it, this _was_ the first time he’d tried to use it since returning to hell, where his wings had gone back to normal.

     Bloody hell, this ‘doing the selfless thing’ had taken away his thrice-damned devil face again. This whole ‘angels (and devil) control their own destiny’ thing was starting to get annoying. Ah well, at least Jason and Carl looked suitably chastised. And rather crispy. Suffice to say that they wouldn’t be trying anything again for a while, and maybe he could even knock off a century or two of time before he got to go back to Chloe, since it was unlikely those dummies would be trying anything again soon whether his flash-frying them was an accident or not. He very nearly had to hide a smile behind his still-glowing hand.

     “Alright, point made,” he grumbled in his best ‘king’ voice. “Now, off to idiot school with you, no objections.”

     Jason and Carl, suitably terrified, did as ordered. “Yes m’lord,” they grumbled in unison, turning on their heels and nearly running out of the marble hall. For his part, Lucifer let his wings out and flew back up to his throne for some demon-free decompression time, a soft smile on his face as he fashioned a little ball out of starlight, playing idly with his powers in a way he hadn’t done since before his fall.

 _Beatrice would love this,_ he thought to himself. _Now, if only I can find a demon who isn’t a complete dimwit to deliver it to her..._


End file.
